
Class T^ S '\{i <. 



CD{pgiitN?aja-E-a 






CQEHRIGHT DJEPOSIT. 



THE BOATRIDE 

BY 

Elford Chilcote Preston 

illustrations by 
Mabel Lakin Patterson 




BOSTON 

THE GORHAM PRESS 
MCMXX 



Copyright, 1920, by Elford C. Preston 



All Rights Reserved 



Made in the United States of America 



The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. 



J L'N 19 1320 
©CI,A571358 



^ THE BOATRIDE 



THE BOATRIDE 



r%^ ..\ 




I. 



The current's slow ebb scarcely stirred the 

calm river 
To forward its slumberous stream through the 

course 
Which sinuously wound through a hill studded 

valley 
Toward the ocean's grey tide, from its cool, 

sylvan source. 
5 



II. 

The spirit of Night held its wand o'er the river 
And mantled in sable its placid expanse. 
Till the full-orbed moon spread its sails in 
the ether 
And Luna, its mistress, quelled gloom 
with her glance. 




III. 

My bark drifted, aimless, upon the still 
water. 
I cared not through what devious course it 
might go; 
For Avis, the sweetest and loveliest of beings, 
Was snugly ensconced in the Water Nymph's 
bow. 

6 




IV. 

hand 



on the Water's warm 



She trailed one white 

bosom. 
She tapped its soft face with the idle, blunt oar. 
The eddies, like ripples of low eadenced laughter, 
Diffused it with dimples from boatside to shore. 

V. 

The willows hung low o'er the edge of the current. 
The shadows, 'neath shelter, inviting to hide. 
The frogs in full chorus sang songs in the marshes. 
A nightingale's anthem was trilled o'er the tide. 




VI. 

It seemed as if all that was loathsome in 

nature 
In slumber's repose was enwrapped for the 

night; 
While the beauties, the harmonies, nature's 

pure blendings 
Were marshalled in tranquil array to delight. 

VII. 

Avis, the mistress of all true and tender; 
Avis, possessor of beauty's proud charm; 
Avis, kindhearted, noble and generous — 
It was mine to protect her from all that could 
harm. 

VIII. 

I had thought oft before that my wooings 

she slighted; 
That I could not impress my fond love on her 

heart: 
That, should I pour forth nectared love from 

its fountain, 
She would bid me arise and forever depart. 

8 




IX. 



But as she sat there, bathed in silvery radiance 
Which Luna shed o'er her, there stole from 

her eyes 
Such a gleam of love light that I straightway 

did fathom 
The depths of her soul and beheld my great 

prize. 



X. 

I thought I would speak of the love which pos- 
sessed me, 
Since no longer my heart's deep affection she 
spurned; 
But the spell of the moment bade me pause 
and delight in 
The new found belief of affection re- 
turned. 




XL 

The moon mounted high in its arc of the 
heavens. 
We heeded not time in its swift, onward 
sweep. 
The Water Nymph glided along on the cur- 
rent. 
Avis plashed with the oar — Nature lulled 
me to sleep. 
10 




XII. 

I dreamed of a home on the bank of the river 
Where I was content to while life's years away. 
That home was ideal in its every conception. 
For Avis ruled o'er it with love sceptered sway. 



11 




XIII. 

When next I awoke the bark had departed 

And river and Luna and Avis had fled. 

A pall of dense darkness was hung in my 

chamber, 
Enshrouding all objects which stood by my bed. 



XIV. 

The hoot of an owl echoed far in the wood- 
land; 

The bay of a dog, weird and dismal, did sound. 

The harmonies, now, seemed banished by 
Nature ; 

The uncouth and unpleasant now seemed to 
abound. 

12 



XV. 

It was only a dream, the boatride and glad- 
ness; 

A play of the mind, unreal as the home 

On the bank of the river, ruled o'er by fair 
Avis — 

Through what remote fields will the mind in 
dreams roam. 

XVI. 

How oft when awake will the nightingale's 

carol 
Give place to the hoot of a night banished 

owl: 
How seldom in life are our highest hopes 

granted; 
How often the pure meets defeat from the 

foul. 

XVII. 

I will not despair, for the good is the factor 
That wins the most plaudits after the fray. 
Who knows but that Avis may yield to 

entreaty 
And again grant the boon which my waking 

stole 'way. 

13 



